


You Belong To Me

by i_want_you_to_make_me (orphan_account)



Category: BioShock, BioShock Infinite
Genre: Angst, F/M, Post-Game, pre-burial at sea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 15:11:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2472740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/i_want_you_to_make_me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’s in Paris and she’s not with him and the voices are screaming to smother, smother, smother that son of a bitch in his crib. Or is it really her crib now?</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Belong To Me

**Author's Note:**

> Is over-italicizing a crime because I'm going to hell for this fic anyways

She holds the trigger up to his head. She doesn’t pull it yet because that’s not what makes this important.

“Elizabeth?” he says in that husky voice that makes her teeth set on edge.

Her form lies next to him, sleeping and content. The Elizabeth standing in front of Booker is not a beast he has had to face yet.

“Why?” he asks, keeping quiet so he doesn’t wake her. He knows.

She stares at him, long and hard. She wants him to get a good look at her. She doesn’t look much like herself these days. She’s let her hair grow out and the circles have grown so dark under her eyes that she looks like she’s dead. She wants to be dead, if she's honest.

Elizabeth makes a soft noise in her sleep as she turns over, the inky tendrils of her hair spreading over the dirty pavement and her cheeks flushed pink.

“You sold me.” she says with so much malice that he shuts up for just a second.

When he opens his mouth to answer, he dies. This is her constant. This is what she can make constant.

She is gone before her own self can wake up. Soon, that Elizabeth will become a voice in the void that tells her to _smother_.

Elizabeth reads in a book centuries in the future that serial killers get the most pleasure from their first kill and that every kill after that is just a desperate attempt to recreate the feeling.

She thinks of herself as an outlier.

 

~

At first, she tried to drown him.

She pushed his head into oil puddles and she’d burst open fire hydrants. She’d drag him through tears and kill him in every single ocean of his precious Sodom.

The voices tell her to _smother_ but she can’t do it fast enough. They need to pay. They need to wipe away the debt.

The voices quiet when she wraps her fingers around his neck for the first time. (In another universe, at the same moment, she is wrapping his hands around her own neck and asking him to do her a favor. He tells her never, never, never.) He struggles and struggles but when she makes the final shackle appear around his leg, trapping him against the wall of Hudson's, he stops moving. The Elizabeth, the foolish, stupid Elizabeth, is racing for his gun. It goes off and she is gone again.

 

~  
  
     She can make it so that it appears no time passes between moments. She can kill a thousand different Booker’s all in the space of a pause for breath when he speaks.

He tells her he loves her in Rapture and she keeps him.

He dies Songbirds death as his lips form around the “u”. She has killed him 13,989,767 times in that space. His breath is as good as poison to her.

Time rots everything.

 

~

 

She reads in that same book that children exposed to alcohol in the womb are more likely to become serial killers and those with parents who had trouble with substance abuse account for 70% of all known serial killers.

She screams and screams at him in New York until his shoulders shake from terrified sobs. She slits his throat with a broken beer bottle.

 

~

 

She kisses him once in Paris, just for the principle of it. All she can think about is the taste of cigarettes and stale beer in his mouth. When he pushes his hands against the tie of her corset, she smirks.

He shatters like a porcelain doll when she drops him from the top of the Eiffel tower.

 

~

 

She’s in Paris and she’s not with him and the voices are screaming to _smother, smother, smother that son of a bitch_ in his crib. Or is it really her crib now?

Rosalind doesn’t pity anyone but when she tells Elizabeth to rest, Elizabeth nearly whispers, “ _smother_ ”. Rosalind probably sees it in another door because she takes a step back.

 

~

 

She pretends to love him back in Rapture.

She puts on lipstick and all she can think of is blood. Maybe that's the point, but she feels sick when she looks at it.

Teeth marks trail up and down her neck but they never make her feel good.

She moans and she lets him smudge her makeup and untie her corset but she doesn't feel a thing.

Booker has no idea. He'll fuck anything that moves for that five seconds of bliss. He has twenty years of agony to live through, even in this world. He has no idea what she is to him, what she could _do_.

Do. Does. Will do.

_Done._

She doesn't even realize her hands are around his throat until he screams.

She forgets to let go.

 

~

 

"Serial killers often grow up isolated." she says quietly.

"Child-"

His head hits the bird bath with a crack.

The voices don't stop when she kills Comstock but she has to, she has to, she has to.

 

~

 

She's ( _smother_ ) in Paris again ( _smother_ ) and she's ( _smother_ ) trying to rest.

Her fingers ( _smother_ ) twitch against her neck ( _smother_ ) and she tries to breath ( _smother, smother, smother_ ) but she can't.

 _Smother_.

And suddenly everyone is screaming around her and her hands are pushing someone down into the pavement. She's trying to drown him but there's no water here. And when she looks down at him she sees... Booker. The hair and the nose and the shape of his brow and it's enough.

She doesn't want to. Oh God. She can't stop.

 

~

 

Bullets make everything quicker.

It doesn't feel as good but she can get so many more this way.

 _Smother_.

And she's trying. There are infinite universes where he exists but she has all of eternity to be with him.

 

~

 

"I need for you to understand that I hate you. I despise you. You're not my father, you're nothing to me." she spits out.

He nods because she has a gun to his head.

Long after she has pulled the trigger, she whispers, "You hate me too."

His hair is soft against the hollows of her cheeks.

 

~

 

'Some people are just born like this.' she quotes from that book over and over in her own head to try and stop the _smother, smother_.

She can't remember the song that was playing when she danced on the beach. Can't even remember that place's name.

She has to stop using the gun. She has to drown him again.

 

~

 

"Elizabeth, please! Please stop."

She lets out a broken sob and pushes him under again.

 

~

 

Booker holds Anna and he's crying. He's crying so hard that he doesn't see her standing there.

She knows that her own hands are raised in line with his neck but he whispers into that small babies hair, "We'll be just fine." and she feels her own fingers flit to her neck, pressing until she can no longer hear _smother, smother, smother, smother, smother, smother, smother, smother_.

He is the first one she saves.

 

~

 

When she returns to the sea of doors, she realizes all of the seas are choked with Booker's bodies.

She has never noticed before.

She cries and learns that even gods are lonely sometimes.

Maybe she was born like this. Maybe it was never his fault.

 _Smother, smother_ they say, and she does because she must, because she loves him back.

 


End file.
